Contender
by NauruAyumi
Summary: OneShot RitsuMi, at the Inn where Tohru and Kyo have been wed. It was hard relentless work and she felt her self, her old self slipping away. But his garden made up for all that. "Look! Fireflies!" Contagious Concepts pt 10


Part Nine- Contagious Concepts- A concept for my each of my favorite Furuba pairings. They take place after the reception of Tohru and Kyo's wedding (they're 22, it took him awhile to get the guts to ask her...). Its a moonlit night and there is something contagious in the air.

I'll be posting them as separate one-shots, because the ratings will change between them.

If you enjoy this one, please read my Kakeru x Komaki fic called 'Conference', my Arisa x Kureno fic called 'Content', Yuki x Machi fic called 'Confident', my Kisa x Hiro fic called 'Confess', my Hana x Kazuma fic called 'Congratulations', my Hatori x May fic called 'Concern', my Akito x Shigure fic called 'Conquer', my Aaya x Mine fic called 'Congruent', and my Rin x Haru fic called 'Confront'.

Disclaimer- Furuba isn't mine.

R&R! I'd love to know what you think. No flames please, flames hurt. But kind criticism is appreciated. And this is my interpretation, so if we interpret differently, let's not fight, okay?

A lot of this one ended up being told in flashback, so I'm sorry if that bothers you... Eh well.

Sighing, the dark haired woman leaned back to rest her weight against her shinbones and looked out across the secluded little side garden of the inn. She was exhausted and the warmth outside was lulling her to sleep. The moon was rising, custard-colored in the darkening sky and Mitsuru wished Ritchan was there to see it with her. After all, it was shedding a very unusual and subtly beautiful color of light over his garden.

To Ritsu, the garden represented redemption, confidence and acceptance.

---

It all began when one of his college professors begged on his knees before Akito and Ritsu's parents to transfer him into the design program at the university. He had an eye he said, the kind that only shows up once every twenty years or so. Akito couldn't care less and left the choice to the overjoyed parents. Two years and he graduated with honors.

His family was ecstatic, throwing up such a fuss that their timid son almost gained an ego in the process. Mitsuru knew he'd lived his life without hope of being accepted by his own parents. He was an awkward child, never growing out of his feminine features. He wasn't exceptional at anything, not school or art or music or athletics. He wasn't terribly organized or good with children. To have his latent talent recognized was a dream come true for all of them.

Mitchan wasn't surprised. She'd seen his skill long before, times when she'd ask him to set the table while she made dinner (he was always terribly underfoot in a kitchen) and come back to find it elegant. It was never too pretty for her humble apartment but always tasteful and the flowers he never failed to bring - Ayame's influence, she couldn't complain- would be arranged expertly. The ones that didn't seem to fit in the arrangement she would find later, standing together in a vase on her bedside table.

She was happy for him, truly happy, but her inconceivably hectic life got even crazier because of his good fortune.

First, he was formally reinstated as the heir to the inn, the onsen, and everything else currently run by his mother and father. He started spending weekends, then weeks, then months, then half the year learning, studying. At first his mother didn't give him much freedom, telling him how to fold the futons and how to greet the guests and how to organize the bath attendants and cooks. Ritsu proved timid and apologetic, as he'd always been, but the people weren't as quick to criticize. He was the family genius, the honorable young master. Soon he was selecting byobu and fusuma and redesigning table settings for gatherings, then gaining a reputation among the customers for finding antique art pieces that fit like perfect puzzle pieces into the season's sky, the subtle accents of an inn room and even the motifs on the lending yukata . As he gained popularity at the Sohma inn, his life flew into a whirlwind.

Mitsuru wasn't left along the way. After all, she'd accepted him before his family found value in his art. He was always gentle, always kind, but he began to spend more time working.

She moved into the family quarters of the inn when Ritsu was invited to prepare an ornamental garden of his own design as a test and a legacy. He set to work, drawing up plans, talking to landscapers, spending hours on the telephone with Yuki discussing plants and growing conditions. He wanted it to be perfect. She unpacked her things while he humbly went about his masterpiece project.

In such close proximity, it didn't take long for Mitsuru to realize that his parents didn't really approve, exactly. She wasn't naturally talented innkeeper's wife material. She was raised in a western-style apartment, grew up wearing western-style clothing and eating western-style food. She had little appreciation for the idyllic serenity and old-world traditions that governed this new life. She caused an uproar when it was discovered she didn't know how to properly wear a formal kimono (she'd always had her grandmother help her on the two occasions in her life she'd ever worn one) and she could barely walk in geta. The list of her shortcomings could've repaired every shoji screen in the ryokan.

_"Your hair is such an unseemly length." She nodded, not daring to advocate its practicality._

_"It is unfortunate that you are so habitually unpunctual to meals." The okami sighed. Mitsuru bowed her head before kneeling and bowing formally to the older woman. The okami suddenly half-smiled, pleased. "You may serve the tea now."_

It was hard, relentless work- the okami was either flying off the handle into a panic like Ritsu used to do or she was somehow unhappy with Mitsuru's performance. It made her a little sad to see Ritsu working so fruitfully with the acceptance of his parents. He could do no wrong. But now every time he saw her he was busy, always busy. Perhaps she could have liked the breathtaking scenery and the onsen better if there was someone to share it with.

Every morning she put on her kimono, tied her obi (that was an ordeal from the very beginning but she'd mostly mastered it) and became someone she didn't really recognize. It stopped mattering so much. The okami eventually let her interact with the other customers but slowly and surely Mitsuru was losing her sense of self, the nervous editor, the modern girl, the shy young woman who fell in love with a man far above her social stature.

Every morning began to look the same.

Every night she snuggled into her futon (alone, it would be most improper to share a room with a man she wasn't married to, which seemed like a positively medieval rule but who was she to argue), and went to sleep. When it was warm, she left the sliding doors open, when it cooled she closed them. She watched the glow of the nightlights every evening until they became familiar.

Then, one night when the air was just beginning to taste like autumn though the trees had barely registered the first streaks of orange, someone stepped through the half-closed door leading to the garden. Of course, there was no way she could mistake the silhouette, it seemed so hesitant, nervous and apologetic.

She sat up before he could apologize for waking her. She'd get in trouble if anyone found out he was in her room.

Slipping off his sandals, he tiptoed over to her futon and deliberated for a moment. She could hear him stumbling over his words under his breath like he usually did. Mitchan didn't realize how much she'd missed it.

"Would you… that is. Could you, perhaps, come with me for just a moment if… it wouldn't be a terrible burden…?" His soft, sweet voice trailed off into the shadows. She bowed her head in agreement and held out her hand. Ritsu looked at it for a moment before taking it and helping her to her feet.

He made a very soft sound, hesitating, before offering her a haori to wear over her light yukata. She adjusted the sash for an instant and accepted his offering. Her thanks were murmured barely audibly and for some reason her face was warm. Why was she feeling shy around him now? It made no sense. Perhaps trying so hard to be demure all day was having an effect on her actual temperament. She hoped not- she'd worked hard to be respected in the publishing business and being a prim and shy type of person didn't help people to think she was capable and hardworking.

Gently, she put her hand in his and he took her outside.

She caught him peeking glances at her face, observing her. This place wasn't new anymore and Mitsuru no longer took the same breathtaking awe in the scenery. There was the decorative pond and the landscape around it. It was nothing less than beautiful. But it wasn't special anymore. She stole a quick look at his expression but could see no reverence for the scene either. Instead, he looked like a little boy hurrying to a toy store or an amusement park. Too excited to notice anything else.

Soon, their steps were hurrying far beyond what she knew was ladylike.

Then, they turned the corner into a sight that was incomparable to anything she'd seen before. And she knew that this could only be Ritsu's garden.

It blended seamlessly with everything around it and in it and she forgot entirely that it was not on a particularly photogenic side of the ryokan. The honeysuckle grew as if it had always been there, twisting and winding on low bushes. Other flowers, low and expertly styled pine trees (still young, they would require years of care), and vivid green moss sprawled in a controlled chaos over a peninsula jutting into a small stream. Ferns evoked a forest floor and smooth, oblong stones, perhaps just the perfect size for the palm of her hand were sculpted around the edges of the brook. Instead of a bridge crossing the shallow water there was a fallen log, seemingly decomposing with a blanket of moss that sprouted little pink flowers. The top was hollowed out to make a flat walking surface.

She turned and turned, taking it all in in amazement. There were several candles glowing, inset into stones in the middle of the river. Her mouth was threatening to drop out of her jaw. It was incredible, masterful! Abruptly, she turned to stare, agog, at Ritsu. He was looking at the ground.

"You…" She couldn't get a sentence out.

"I… That is, I wanted to show you first. Before anyone else." His voice was quiet, and lower than she expected. She couldn't blush and respond immediately. "Look! Fireflies!" The little pinpricks of light floating over his garden made it seem enchanted, timeless, wild. Her heart swelled with pride.

He started for a moment, and then shuffled over to a bare patch on the ground. She moved to look at the empty dirt.

"Th-This is for you. They're, that is, they haven't grown yet, we'll have to wait until the spring." She looked at him, confused. "Ah! I'm sorry!" He apologized. "I wasn't clear. I'm sorry. Daffodils. They should sprout in the spring."

"My favorite." She was surprised he remembered. It had come out once as he listened to tales of her childhood. She was scolded severely by her grandmother for plucking daffodils from a neighbor's window box. At six, she couldn't help it. They were so cute she just had to have them. Ritsu remembered. Of course he remembered.

She smiled the most honest happiest expression she'd made in months.

"I- I noticed you aren't happy here." His somber words cut through her elation. Her eyes darkened behind her lashes. "This is worth it." She gestured to the beautiful garden. His exquisite garden. He shook his head, slowly.

"We can leave if you are unhappy." But his voice was self-sacrificing. "But, I want you to know… that is, with the others, my mother calls you a contender. Not that there are any others I would consider. That is…" His voice was getting a little higher pitched, flustered. She stepped closer to him, looking at his lovely face in the light of the river-candles. She couldn't tell if he was flushed or if that was just the flame. "What I mean to say is, she's training you as the-the waka-okami. The young mistress."

Her eyes widened. That was a position reserved for a daughter… or a daughter-in-law.

"But… I'm!" She had a lot to protest, but she was ridiculously happy. Positively glowing and it had nothing to do with the fireflies. She couldn't help nearly jumping for joy. All the maidenly composure slipped away for a moment and she was just Mitsuru, Mitsuru who loved Ritsu dearly.

She reached up and kissed him once, eagerly. With Ritsu, she usually had to be the forward one. "I'm never good enough!" She kissed him again, "and I can't get half the things she tells me through my head…" Her head was spinning. He brushed a piece of her soft brown hair out of her face. His eyes were shining despite her qualms. "And I never serve tea the right way and as far as I know that's the most important part!" Her anxieties were beginning to trickle out of her mouth slower inching towards stopping altogether. He was looking straight into her eyes, strangely serious. He was leaning in closer and closer and she was just so happy, unfairly happy, unduly happy.

"Humor her…" Some of the confidence he had hidden deep down was rising to the surface. She could feel how warm he was and smell the mineral and sulfur scent of the onsen on his skin. "You're the one I choose." Her eyes drifted shut as their lips met again, this time slow and a little shy.

Ritsu's bewitching garden, his masterpiece, watched their embrace, two silhouettes against the moss and the shrubs and the sleeping daffodils.

---

The wedding had gone surprisingly well, despite her overwhelming dance with Ayame. Ritsu had been mostly behind the scenes this time, trying his unsteady hand at management. She wasn't envious. It was her job to entertain the guests, make witty banter, and praise the happy couple. She was slacking because she knew more than half the people there. They didn't want Mitsuru-the-Prim-Japanese-Hostess; they wanted Mitsuru-the-formerly-suicidal-editor-turned-Ritchan's-unlikely-girlfriend. She was happy to oblige. A good hostess is always happy to oblige.

Now she sat, a little tired, and stared at the garden. It was beautiful in every season- spring when her daffodils bloomed, summer when the fireflies danced, autumn when the scent of settling leaves filled the air, and winter too, when the steam from the onsen drifted across the little brook and hung in the air, mysterious and intangible. And nothing seemed to disturb it, not guests or animals or unkind weather.

Mitsuru watched it with wonder never failing to be amazed. Its construction had been a hard time in her life, but she maintained it was worth it. So worth it.

She heard him come in while she was staring at the moon and waited for him to come closer. She scooted a little to her left to give him room in the doorway to his garden. He hit the floor with a thump and his head landed in her lap. She glanced down, seeing the exhaustion in his face. She could hardly be surprised. He had barely the conviction to kiss her first, when they'd been seeing each other for years, much less boss around the staff. It must have been terribly stressful. She tangled her fingers playfully in his beautiful hair, his hair the color of the harvest moon. Her fingertips gently stroked his head and she hummed one of the folksongs she remembered from her childhood.

Together, they gazed upon his incredible garden.

Her heart jumped.

"Look, fireflies!"

R&R! Hope you enjoyed!

I actually did research on this one, haha :)


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